


Chance Glances

by MissMittens (Missfoxymittens)



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Travel, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22888780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missfoxymittens/pseuds/MissMittens
Summary: Muriel has little idea of just how quickly he is falling for the apprentice, but the stretch of their travels prove to test his resolve against himself as he grows close to the bubbly woman known to Vesuvia as the Rose. While she has little knowledge of how she’s created that name for herself, Muriel might know more than he lets on.Slow burn, rating will likely change to mature later on – let’s see where we go!
Relationships: Apprentice & Muriel (The Arcana), Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana), Muriel (The Arcana)/Original Character(s), Muriel (The Arcana)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	1. Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! This is my first time writing fan fiction in quite some time, let me know what you think! I hope to add on more to this and see where we go.

**Chance Glances**

**Chapter 1: Sunlight**

Muriel thought he had fallen in love simply with the way light danced on her hair that day.

It had been weeks since they left Vesuvia, hellbent on finding and killing Lucio, much to Muriel’s distaste. He felt nothing but hatred for the formerly late count, and if Muriel had his way he would be back in his hut with Inanna at his side and a fire roaring in the hearth. Instead, fate led Roselyn to his forest the day the heart of the forest died, pink eyes blown wide with concern at the site of his wounds. 

Her insistence that he be involved in the investigation lead them to the Tarske forest that they trudge through now. Morga raises her hand, signaling for them to stop. 

“I’m going to scout ahead,” Morga says over her shoulder. “The two of you stay behind, I’d rather not be slowed down in case I find a trail. Jaeger will signal when to move forward, water the horses in the meantime.” 

She’s gone in an instant, leaving no opening for protest or debate regarding her plans. It was likely for the best, dealing with Morga often lead to her leaving them behind in a rage. Roselyn’s face creased in worry a moment before catching Muriel’s gaze and brightening into a smile. 

“I was needing a break,” Roselyn says as she dismounted her horse, straightening out her skirts and cloak once she hits the ground. Muriel follows suit, shrugging his furs firmly onto his shoulders. “How about you? How’re you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” 

His reply is short, weary to imply that he’s saddle sore or exhausted beyond belief. Their brief bed share at the inn several nights back was knocking around in his head whenever his mind drifted off from travel, and it made their few exchanges since then unbearably awkward. The slow rise and fall of her chest, her halo of unkept hair, and the echo of her heartbeat are committed to his memory against his will. No matter how much he wishes otherwise, he’s unable to get the visage her out of his head. 

“You sure? You seem a tired.” She reaches to brush his hair out of his face but stops inches from his face, his cheeks feel hot as he turns his eyes to anywhere but where she’s standing. 

“Not really, don’t worry about me.” Muriel can’t maintain eye contact for too long, something about how she stares at him – searching – makes him uneasy. 

“Well, in that case, I can take the horses to drink. I saw a stream not too far back so it shouldn’t take me long. You and Inanna can have some alone time.” Roselyn replies cheerfully before gathering up their reins. 

She lingers for a moment before turning and backtracking their previous steps, leaving Muriel and Inanna to themselves in the clearing. Inanna brushes against his hand, nosing his palm until he finally scratches behind her ear. Even with pets, Inanna lets out a low one, yellow eyes darting to where Roselyn had departed. 

With a sigh, Muriel stretches his legs. If he didn’t know any better, he would turn tail and leave the both of them behind on their wild goose chase. Lucio will find some way to win, surely, and no amount of blind faith or lost sense of duty would change that. Somehow, he’ll out do every last one of them, and all that will remain are pieces is his wake.

And yet, while Muriel knows that Morga could take of herself, his thoughts drift back to Roselyn. She wouldn’t stand a chance alone in the woods by herself. Her skirts and blouse wouldn’t keep her warm, and they would get caught on every last bramble she’d across. Her hair would fair even less so, tangling in branches she’d be too distracted to notice as she’d blindly make her way through brush. She’d be too trusting and accept some stranger’s help, not aware that they hide a knife behind their back. Hell, even one misstep and she’d find herself face first in the bottom of a raging river.

Before he can realize it, Muriel quickly makes his way down the path they had trekked up until this point. Inanna bounds ahead in front of him, hot on the trail they were both keen on persuing. How far back was this creek anyway? When they had initially passed it, Muriel had thought it was maybe several minutes, tops. Now, he wasn’t entirely sure how far back it was. The further he walks, the more worried he becomes – this couldn’t be right, could it?

The first small sound of running water sets Muriel’s pace from a fast walk to a jog, his footfalls heavy on the mossy ground. He catches sight of the creek quickly, but sees neither hide nor hair of the magician’s apprentice. His heart starts to pound harder, something must be wrong. Inanna sniffs the ground for a moment before letting out a quick bark and trotting downstream with Muriel not far behind her. If anything, Inanna would find her first.

The horses aren’t too far from the creek, having clearly enjoyed some water moment prior and now idly grazing near the creek bed. Inanna bounds up over a hill with Muriel anxiously in tow. There is no way she would leave the horses alone like this, something terrible happened to her, he’s sure of it. She likely lost her footing and - 

And nothing. 

Roselyn sits in the middle of a clearing, facing away from the creek and the horses, her head turned up to the canopy as she watches songbirds flit from tree to tree. Her blond hair cascades in waves down her back to her waist, a crease ghosting where her ponytail previously held all of it up in a neatly braided bun. Her right hand lifts up towards the canopy, reaching at something unseen to both herself and Muriel. But she stops short, dainty fingers curling into a loose fist before drifting back down to her lap. The leaves of the canopy scatter sun rays and dancing shapes across Roselyn’s hair and back, and Roselyn sits quietly in silence – soaking in the quiet.

In between the silence, the songbirds, and the gentle rustling of leaves, Muriel holds his breathe. Another moment committed to memory, a side of her he might never see again. If he were to break this moment, he might not ever forgive himself.

But Inanna has no such reserve as she hops happily up to Roselyn’s side. Roselyn’s hand drifts ideally down to scratch the scruff of Ianna’s fur, her face turning down to smile at her wolf companion. 

“Hey there cutie,” Roselyn coos. She presses a kiss on the wolf’s forehead before turning her gaze backwards in search of Inanna’s trusted companion. A blush spreads across her cheeks when she notices him at the edge of the clearing. 

“Ah! Sorry I didn’t hear you walk up,” She starts. “How long have you been standing there?”

Muriel clears his throat, cheeks burning. “Uhm, I just walked up, are you alright?”

Roselyn rises, brushing down her skirts and adjusting her cloak. “Yeah I’m fine, just taking a second.” She wrings her hands together, awkwardly shuffling up to him. “I’m okay by myself you know, you can’t imagine all the times Asra let me alone when I had way less wits about me.” 

A feather-light chuckle, a carefree smile, hair being tucked carefully behind her ears as she beams at him. 

Muriel lets out a sign, turning his gaze up to the canopy. 

“Fair enough.” He replies.

Oh, if only she knew. 


	2. Midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's left a kudos or comment so far. When I first published it, I didn't think I'd get over 10 reads, so really – thank you! 
> 
> Sidebar: Should I have used the unlimited keys weekend to take notes? Yes. Did I spend it napping instead? Maybe. 
> 
> More notes at the end, enjoy!

**Chance Glances**

**Chapter 2: Midnight**

Morga wasted no time getting the three of them back on the path. Muriel and Roselyn rode for hours, and when night finally fell they quickly set up camp and retired for the evening. Supposedly they would be reaching the edge of the forest tomorrow and onto the shining steppes, and the thought of it left Muriel sour. He wasn't jumping at the opportunity to visit the place where he was born, but there wasn't a way around it.

For now, the three of them sleep under a small opening in the forest under a sea of stars. The forest is quiet at this time of night; leaves rustle gently with passing breezes, hoots from owls call out in the silence, disrupting the gentle song of what cicadas remain from the summer. 

It's easy for Muriel to feel more at peace during these parts of the journey. Still, sleep is hard to find on a bedroll in the middle of the woods. Inanna nuzzles underneath his arm making him almost uncomfortably warm, and the rock digging into his back isn’t doing him any favors either. His eyes flutter open, making out the thin outline of Morga's sleeping form reclining against a tree. Muriel frowns at the sight of her, grumpily flipping over to his other side. He disturbs Inanna enough to make her pad a few feet away and curl up by the remains of the fire. She settles in quickly enough, but Muriel doesn't pay her much mind. 

Instead, he's surprised to see Roselyn sitting up, legs crossed and hands fiddling with something in her lap. Her blonde hair swept over to one side as she leans forward, eyes focusing on whatever it is she's working on. A small orb of light twinkles gently above her, illuminating the crease in her brow and bow of her lips. 

She's poised, completely absorbed by the work in front of her. It’s a dedication to her work that Muriel is only beginning to learn. Before the plague, Muriel had always mistaken this side of her as aloof and uncaring – especially in works of magic. When he and Asra would walk into the shop, she would immediately fly a hand up in their direction, permitting them from interrupting a spell or project. Her work was always more important than them, at least that how Muriel had thought of it then. 

But now, as he watches her scrunch her face deep in thought, eyes weary from lack of sleep, he finds it to be something more. She isn't a perfectionist like he had once thought all those years back. No – Perfection isn't something Roselyn keenly seeks, especially considering how much of her time she gave him when he stumbled to get his thoughts out into words. Is it dedication instead? If so, why dedicate time around listening to him, being patient with him, being gentle, being - 

Muriel's thoughts halt when his eyes meet Roselyn's, and he quickly looks up towards the sky, embarrassed. Thankfully, Roselyn doesn’t seem to notice. 

"Ack, I didn't wake you – did I?" Roselyn dims the light of her orb a touch, setting aside whatever it is she is working on and running a hand through her hair.

"No." His ears are burning as he finds a tree trunk to glower at across the camp. 

"Can't sleep?" She asks. Muriel replies with a grunt as he sits up, eyes squinting with poor sleep. Roselyn smiles and stares at her hands, responding with a quiet, "Me neither." 

They sit in peaceful silence for a moment, taking in the sounds of the forest as it sleeps around them. Roselyn stares at the smoldering embers of the near-dead campfire, her eyes transfixed on a thought embedded within the coals. As usual, she is the one to break the silence. 

"C' mere." She mumbles, her left hand reaching out over to him with an open palm. Muriel's face goes twenty shades of crimson in record time.

"W-wh. Why?" 

"Just C' mere." Her hand remains an open invitation.

Muriel sighs and moves over to her, leaving his bedroll behind. He hesitantly takes her hand, her soft fingers finding warmth between his. She likes touching, and more specifically – touching him. It's something that Muriel still can't decipher. That’s not dedication either, is it? 

"Not that I saw you watching or anything," Muriel starts to retrieve his hand from hers, but she doubles down and squeezes tight. "But I'm working on a courage candle for the road, want to see?" 

Muriel nods as Roselyn lifts up the orange candle she previously set aside for him to hold, releasing his hand from hers. Delicate runes emboss its surface, most of which Muriel knows. They're the very same on his casting runes back home. Runes of protection, courage, peace, and endurance border the top and bottom edges of the candle itself, while the center is left empty with small sketch marks outlining a circle yet to be carved. 

Muriel's fingers run along the runes as he turns the candle around in his hand. She is talented – no denying that. 

"I like it." 

"Yeah?" Her voice has a tired joy Muriel isn’t familiar with, a desire for approval being fulfilled. 

"Mmm. Would be better green." He replies.

"Well, green would be for money. But I could make you one with a green core if you'd like once we get home. It's not hard or anything." Her fingers brush over his as she takes the candle from him, to which he coughs and retracts his hand, staring into the campfire embers for respite. Whether it be the time of night or the sheer stress they are under on this trip, Roselyn can't mask her disappointment at him pulling away from her.

"Er, sorry. I know they aren't for everybody, I didn't mean to assume." 

"W-what? No I like it. I-" Muriel scans the edge of the camp for an answer he can't find. He doesn't mean to upset her. "I- I would like one." 

“Yeah?” Roselyn lets out a small laugh, "And if it isn't green?"

"T-that's fine. I think. Green is best, but whatever you pick will be nice." His eyes dart around, he can't bear to look at her. If he could, he'd disappear under a rock.

"I'll think about it." She muses, her tone more sleepy than anything else. Her hand lazily finds his again, eyes heavy with sleep as she looks at them laced together. Muriel flinches at her initial touch, but reminds himself that this is okay. Roselyn was safe, gentle, soft – all of the things he isn't and everything he wants to be. She leans her head onto his shoulder, face nuzzling into his cloak and letting out a long, sleepy sigh.

"Is this okay?" Roselyn's question is quiet and testing, fearful of breaking the uneasy comfort between the two of them. 

Muriel takes a moment, not to consider her question, but to savor the feel of her hand in his. He wouldn't say no even if he desired.

"Mhm."

Muriel watches the embers in the fire slowly go from orange to grey, listening to Roselyn slowly fall asleep against his arm. Her hand goes limp in his, but he doesn't bother letting go just yet. They could stay like this, he thinks. The two of them could do this time and time again, and he wouldn't grow tired of it. 

Eventually, Muriel gently lays Roselyn down on her bedroll. She gives the smallest protest in her sleep, hands grasping at the edge of his cloak to pull him down with her. His blush could light the cold coals if he were close enough. Muriel gently pulls her hands away and cover her with her blanket. She greedily grasps it in her hands and pulls it up over her shoulder to cover her mouth, falling back into a deeper sleep. Muriel retreats to his bedroll, happy enough to make sure nothing wakes her.

When sleep finally finds him, Muriel dreams of the girl in the magic shop surrounded by candles. Green candle in hand, she carefully carves out runes of affection, peace, and remembrance into the surface of the wax; a faint smile ghosting her calm expression as she works. The glimmer of a faraway dream that the two of them unknowingly share. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta love two awkward, falling in love dorks, amiright? I'm trying to play around with the huge gaps in time we're given between chapters, so if there is something you'd like me to explore specifically – let me know in the comments or come chat with me on tumblr – MissFoxyMittens :)
> 
> Fun fact: Roselyn's favorite flowers are Dahlias. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. A Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the hiatus folks! This one is short and sweet, more notes at the end.

**Chance Glances**

**Chapter 3: A Revelation**

Muriel wakes to the sound of Morga fussing over how Roselyn packs her gear. It’s surprising to see them both up before him. Although, he didn’t fall asleep until long after making sure Roselyn had done so herself.

“Who on this earth taught you to pack?” Morga nags, hands deftly rolling up Roselyn’s bedroll as tight and small as possible. 

“Well, nobody, for starters,” Roselyn replies. “Or at least I think nobody has anyway, memory loss and all that.” 

Roselyn snatches the bedroll from Morga before turning to stuff it neatly in her pack, catching Muriel out of the corner of her eye. 

“Good morning,” She beams. “Sleep well?” 

“Y-yeah,” Muriel responds, a slight blush creeping onto his cheeks. 

Truth be told, he got maybe 3 hours of sleep – tops. Ever since he caught her staying up late to carve a candle when she couldn’t sleep, he’d stay up with her. Last night had been one such night, and unsurprising one considering their run-in with Lucio earlier that day. She didn’t even bother with the facade of sleep. Instead, Roselyn sat in concentrated silence while she summoned and unsummoned arrows. Muriel simply sat with her in the quiet by her side, listening to the expletives she muttered under her breath when it wouldn’t form right.

The thought of her fighting made his stomach turn sour.

“Good, you needed it,” Roselyn says.

“Eh, I guess,” Muriel mutters back in response, a shackled hand ghosting up to rub the sleep from his eyes.

She synchs the bedroll tighter, checking the various clips and ties on her bag to make sure everything is in its proper place – her immaculate braid falling forward over her shoulder. Somehow, Roselyn found the time to braid her hair back early this morning after her nearly sleepless night. Golden tresses contained in an elaborately plaited cord that trails down her spine until just above her waist. Muriel enjoyed watching her braid her hair, her hands deftly passing strands between each other – a concentrated look on her face. Something about it makes his mind quiet in a way he isn’t familiar with.

Roselyn whips around, her braid twirling behind her and taking Muriel by surprise, making him a sputtering mess. He prays for a moment that she didn’t catch him staring.

“Hmm? Something wrong?” She says.

Crap.

Roselyn flings her hands behind her back, patting around to grab hold of whatever might be stuck to her. 

“Ah, um - no. Y-your braid.” “Oh jeez, did I do it wrong?” Roselyn brushes the braid forward, inspecting it to find a mistake.

“Er, no. It’s just... it’s very....” Muriel stumbles over his words before taking a long moment, eyes fixating on some point in the trees over her right shoulder. Roselyn’s hands fiddle with the end of her braid, patiently waiting for him to find the words.

“Practical.”

“My braid is... practical?” She repeats.

“Y-yes! It keeps your hair back, and you have a lot of it for some reason.” Muriel feels his cheeks grow warmer.

This is a nightmare. 

Roselyn measures his response for a moment before tossing her braid back over her shoulder with a smile. 

“Well, you’re not wrong.” She laughs. 

“Are you two done yet?” Morga calls from the edge of the campsite. “Stop wasting time and get moving.” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Roselyn replies over her shoulder before giving Muriel a wink. “Better get going before she threatens with the spear again, help me get this pack on?” 

Muriel nods, quickly picking up Roselyn’s backpack for her to put on without much fuss - although helping her in any capacity like this was easy. Roselyn weighs almost nothing to him, so much so that he almost launched her clean over her horse during their to departure, much to their shared embarrassment. However, now he feels more acquainted with her small frame than does his own. Her small but quick steps, fidgeting hands, slender shoulders pushed back at all times, posture always polite, hair pinned in coiling braids, the curve of her hip that ghosts through the fabric of her skirt–

“Uh, Muriel, you can let go of the bag now.” Roselyn chimes, awkwardly peering over her shoulder at his glazed expression. 

Why was he like this?

“S-SORRY.” He replies before hopping and turning on his heel in an instant towards his still unpacked bedroll and makes quick work of it. When had he started thinking of her like _that?_ Did he stare at her often? Did she notice? Gods, did Morga notice? What would Inanna think? 

He’s so lost in his own thoughts he can’t hear Roselyn’s reassurances that everything was fine. After packing what had to be the most tightly rolled bedroll of all time, Muriel slings his bag over his shoulders. If possible, he would climb into the sack himself and stay there forever. However, the ever-looming vague threat of Morga doing anything drags his feet onward. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unsurprisingly, the world is A LOT different than when I first started writing this series. I started writing chapter three right around the time I went into self-isolation, and well - it went through a lot of heavy rewriting. I took some time away from it to focus on myself, my job, and my family, but I can happily say I’m back!
> 
> This one is a sweet one, and I’m hoping to flip the script and take Roselyn’s perspective here very soon! I hope you enjoy her as much as I do – she’s lively. :) Speaking of, Roselyn’s favorite drink is Earl grey tea with light cream.
> 
> Let me know what you think, and as always, thanks for reading! Stay inside, stay safe, and know that people out there care about ya.


	4. Ripple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Sorry for the delay - America has been on fire. That said, enjoy this bit of fluff I’ve been working on, I’m hoping to get into some deeper relationship building soon! 
> 
> As always, enjoy, and check the end for more notes.

**Chance Glances**

**Chapter 4: Ripple**

"Question," Roselyn starts. "Who do you think is going to catch the most fish?" 

"Well, you're pretty bad at it," Muriel replies, stringing another fish to his belt after expertly catching it in his hands. Roselyn hobbles in front of him, hopping from stone to stone with her delicate hands raised above her head to keep balance. She had already fallen twice, and after the second failed attempt, Muriel decided she should practice her footing first.

"Hopping around like that is scaring the fish." He scolds.

"Is that a fact or an assumption?" Roselyn replies, hopping over to another stone.

“Is both an answer?" Muriel settles into his stance, eyes focusing on the shifting shapes in the water below him.

"A lousy one." Another small splash, this time closer. A small smile creeps upon his lips - talking to Roselyn was always easier without Morga lurking over them. Roselyn's sharp wit comes out most she's had enough of Morga's constant ridicule, while Muriel goes quiet. Instead, he kept his sarcastic replies under his breath as to keep them from having to do more intense - potentially dangerous - training. 

Muriel watches the ripples caused by Roselyn's balancing practices disappear. He can feel her eyes watching him – quietly observing his movements as he does his best to pay attention to the fish rather than her. She's started doing that more within the last few days, quietly waiting to see what he'll say or do. To be honest, Muriel isn't sure what to make of it. Roselyn gets this unreadable expression when she stares at him like she's trying to commit a spell to memory. 

"Yes?" He asks, eyes following the distinct shadow of a fish swimming just out of his reach.

"Nothing," She replies. "Just looking at you."

Muriel loses track of the fish at that comment. Was this revenge for the soft comment earlier? Roselyn had to be making fun of him.

"S- stop." Muriel mumbles.

"Hmm?"

"...Stop looking at me."

“And why should I? Am I bothering you?" There's a sing-song quality to her reply that makes him blush.

"Y-yes. I mean, no, but yes. I can't concentrate when you do that." 

“Ah," Roselyn starts. "So, I am a distraction." 

"Yes." The fish closes in towards his feet; his stance goes fluid - ready to strike. Muriel hears Roselyn shift in her posture, small ripples emanating along the water's surface as she does. 

"But what if I like looking at you?"

"W-what?!" With that, he stumbles forward, his weight bringing him tumbling into the water at the failed attempt to catch a fish. Cool water rushes his senses before two warm hands pull him up about his midsection. Roselyn's laughter rings in his ears as he breaks the surface. His face must portray his embarrassment as Roselyn quickly covers her mouth to stop herself from laughing.

"I'm sorry! Are you okay? I couldn't help myself." 

Muriel instinctively runs a hand up his face to get his hair out of the way, only to find most of it held up by the braid Morga had given him earlier that day.

"I'm fine," Muriel grumbles.

"Somehow, I don't believe you." She laughs, hands still resting on his stomach before quickly pulling away. "Be honest, are you hurt?"

"No, not at all," He replies, a gentle smile playing across his lips. Muriel would never say it, but he likes how she checks on him - even when she's joking around. It feels... nice. 

"B-but, you should try to catch a fish this time - since you keep making me miss." 

Roselyn beams at him, making Muriel look at anything besides her. 

"Sure, I've been watching a master after all." 

"I-I'm no master."

"Pah, sure you are," She says as she turns her gaze to the water at her feet. "You're in your element with this."

Muriel watches her closely as she focuses on the water under her. Her blonde braid unraveled and tied up in a loose ponytail, wisps of hair sticking up like a golden, frizzy halo. She's focused, arms ready at her side as her eyes scan the water. Muriel's eyes drift down her torso, blouse and skirts soaked through, before quickly minding his manners and darting back up to her face. 

In the past, before the plague, Muriel knew her as the polished magician's apprentice that served the countess. On the off chance he saw her at the countess' side, she looked like a doll. Perfectly braided hair done up in a crown, blouses perfectly pressed, skirts immaculately kept clean. Perfect little manners for the ideal little magician; Roselyn was the picture of control, poise, and grace. 

He had hated it - hated her.

But looking at Roselyn now, Muriel wonders how he could have ever felt hate for her. He keeps silent as he watches her, and before long, Roselyn shoots forward. To both of their surprise, she pulls a fish out of the water, wildly flopping in her grasp.

"Muriel!" She shrieks, struggling to keep the fish in her hands. "I did it! I caught a fish!!!" 

"Nice," Muriel says with a smile, stepping forward to take the fish from her and add it to his belt. "You're _almost_ a natural."

Roselyn sticks her tongue out at him, cheeks rosy from excitement. Without thinking, Muriel cups her face in his hand, his thumb brushing over the blush in her face. He wants just this, a quiet moment with her in between all of this hunting. Roselyn's eyes go wide for a moment, following the length of his arm up to his face – questioning. Slowly, her hand comes up to cover his, eyes shutting as she leans into his touch. 

_Oh._

Inanna's energetic yip from the riverbank snaps both of them back to reality, hands flying to each other's sides while Muriel coughs awkwardly into his elbow to hide his growing blush.

"W-we should probably start heading back to Morga." He suggests.

“Y-yeah," Roselyn replies. "Let's get going." 

And as she turns on her heel – a blush ever-present on her face – Muriel smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just can’t get enough of these two cuties - especially when they flirt. 
> 
> I’m hoping to post at least few month or so to keep up a good publishing schedule, and I have the next few chapters already in the works. That said, things have been pretty crazy recently. If you’re going out there and protesting, remember to check in on yourself and take a break for your brain so you can go back out and keep standing up against injustice.
> 
> Black lives matter - and they always will. Stay safe out there guys, and stay tuned for more chapters soon! If you want to chat, you can find me on tumblr - @missfoxymittens

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Leave me a comment and let me know what you think.


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